


A Question to the World

by anr



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 things that don't make him unhappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question to the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



_What makes you happy?  
I don't know._

 

1.

His favourite memory of Bucky -- the one that always makes him smile, no matter what -- is not the day they first met, or any of the times Bucky saved him (or, later, when he finally managed to return the favour). It's not any of the times they went out drinking, or to a ball game, or even fought side by side in Europe.

No, his favourite memory is this completely ordinary Thursday afternoon in June a couple of years before the war, just the two of them in some old diner, a couple of burgers and shakes, and a conversation that drifted from subject to subject.

As much as he misses having that in his life now, he does know he was lucky to have had it at all.

 

2.

The Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian isn't his favourite -- too many memories and reminders of what could have ( _should_ have) been -- but the rest of the complex is an awe-inspiring collection of the past, present and future. He's missed so much... wandering through those buildings gives him the hope that maybe he can still catch up.

 

3.

Somewhere south of Connecticut, a Sunday on his own, just the road and the horizon, as he leans against his bike on the side of the highway and stares at the sun as it sets, the skyline flaring a burnished red as twilight fades, and he thinks of the last time he saw Peggy _before_ , those final touches, that first and last kiss...

It still feels like yesterday.

 

4.

He knows he shouldn't say it, knows what will happen when he does, but.

"On your left."

Groaning, Sam gives chase. Steve laughs.

 

5.

The smell of summer in the city -- hot asphalt and a thunderstorm on the way, hot dogs at the ball park, fairy floss from Coney Island, and a whisper of salt from the boardwalks.

 

6.

It's not the weight of his shield so much as it is the _feel_ of it. The way it rests against his back, the way it fits in his grip, the way it just seems _right_.

To the rest of the world it might be a symbol; to him it's simply a part of who he needs to be.

 

7.

Marvin Gaye is good, Sam was right about that, but there's something about the music he remembers from before, the songs of his past, which resonates in a way nothing else can.

Glenn Miller, who Steve actually met, once, in Alabama '43, and Jimmy Dorsey, Bing Crosby -- _I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places..._

 

8.

He's been waiting for a couple of weeks now for Fury to make contact, either to help him or ask for his help (though, to be honest, his money's on it being the latter), so when the contact finally does happen, it's less a surprise and more a welcome relief.

He might not always trust Fury's methods, but he does trust in (and appreciate) his consistency.

Loyalty (even if it's simply Fury's loyalty to Fury) means a lot.

 

9.

Banana-cream twinkies.

He remembers how the war caused the recipe to be changed to a vanilla filling, and he remembers how surprised he was to learn that the banana flavour only came back a few short years before _he_ did, but mainly he remembers how good the past tastes every time he bites into one now.

 

10.

The Zoo in Central Park on a Saturday morning, kids and families and tourists pressing in from every direction; New York City at its anonymous best.

 

11.

Three days after working a mission with Stark again -- _not_ by choice -- he comes to lying on a gurney in some sort of a lab and Stark sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the room, smirking at him. "Some-bo-dy's in trou-ble," he singsongs.

Steve watches Miss Potts walk into the room and head straight for Stark (they must be in Stark's Tower, he realises) and closes his eyes again, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah," he agrees, "you."

 

12.

He wasn't sure about the modern theatres at first -- cineplexes, he thinks they're called. They were too clean, too sterile, the familiar scents of tobacco and peanuts gone, the screens too big, the colours too bright and the speakers too loud, the newsreels a distant memory...

But the chairs. Fabric instead of vinyl. Foam padding instead of metal and wood. Higher backs and greater legroom. He might not always like everything that he's watching, but at least the time spent is a lot more comfortable.

 

13.

The sun has only just started to set when he walks out of his gym and finds Agent Hill standing beside his bike.

"Agent Hill," he says. "Long time."

"Not so long," she says, shading her eyes against the setting sun behind him, "and it's just Hill now."

"Right. Sorry." He shrugs into his jacket. "So what can I do for you?"

He assumes she's here on Fury's behalf and is a little disconcerted to realise that disappoints him.

But she surprises him. "Actually," she says, handing him a manila envelope, "I think this is more what I can do for you."

Opening the envelope, he slides out a series of surveillance photos, Bucky on every single one.

He smiles.

 

14.

Every time he sees the stars and stripes at the top of a flagpole, rippling in a breeze.

 

15.

He knows they're on a mission, that they have a job to do and a contact who will appear sooner rather than later, but sitting in the cheap seats at Yankee Stadium with beers for show in their hands, Sam on one side and Natasha on the other and Hill in his ear, relaying intel...

He finds himself hoping they can keep pretending for just a little while longer.

 

16.

He knows he can't believe everything he reads on the internet, but the quantity, the sheer _volume_ of information, all at his fingertips, every time he logs on, is truly amazing.

 

17.

Getting shot? Not the greatest feeling, even with his accelerated healing.

Opening his eyes to see a familiar (if unexpected) face beside his bed? A somewhat surprising balm.

"Hey," he manages.

Looking up from her magazine, she smiles at him. "Hey."

 

18.

The church he went to as a child -- St Joseph's -- and the one he goes to now -- St Patrick's -- and how the warmth he feels, sitting on those wooden pews under those stained-glass windows, is like the memory of his mother's hand on his cheek.

 

19.

There's something about his gym on a Tuesday afternoon after the classes have finished, and the owner's have cleared the floor for him. Something about the way the sunlight fills the corners of the room right before the shadows start to appear, the smells of sweat and fading cologne, of liniment and hot dust, and the quiet only punctuated by the sound of his fists on the bag, repetitive and soothing.

No enemies, no subterfuge, no fighting -- just a warm place on a quiet day.

It's what he fought for, originally, he knows. _Peace_.

 

20.

He never used to play much stick ball in the streets growing up -- too small, too _scrawny_ \-- but every time he sees some kids in the street playing catch, he can't help but smile.

 

21.

Running into Natasha -- almost literally -- and the smile she gives him as she flips a guy over her hip and kicks the gun out of another's hand, adrenaline and exertion flushing her cheeks and widening her eyes, and says (with unapologetic relentlessness), "Jillian from HR seemed nice."

 

22.

He likes to draw, to sketch out what he sees, to commit the world he knows into something he can touch and hold.

It's calming.

 

23.

Thursday morning's with Peggy.

(And he knows it's kind of wrong and not really normal or healthy, but when she forgets herself, when she forgets the long years they've spent apart and the life she had while he was gone...)

It's the closest he ever feels to being home again.

 

24.

"Coffee?" Sharon tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and stares at him, surprised. "Are you sure?"

Okay, so not the response he was going for, but. He keeps his smile and tries not to falter. "You, uh, you did tell me not to go too far. The last time I asked."

One heartbeat. Two. Three --

Slowly, Sharon smiles. "How 'bout dinner instead?"

 

25.

Rescuing Bucky on an otherwise completely ordinary Thursday afternoon in June.

(He can already taste the burgers.)

  


* * *

The End


End file.
